Passageway
by Lynse
Summary: AU. The Fenton Ghost Portal in the basement lab is empty, broken. Instead, the portal is inside Danny-and even when he knows something's coming, he can't stop it.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Not my AU (apparently originally started by electoweenie on tumblr), and I only really know what people have told me about this AU, so I'll be making up more as I go along—unless anyone is willing to fill me in. Basically, rather than the Fenton Portal we all know finally functioning after the accident, the portal is inside Danny/Danny is the ghost portal. Written as a tumblr request and moved over here because I was asked to post more of my tumblr fics elsewhere. I have a feeling this will be more a collection of related one-shots building a story than anything else, and updates will be sporadic, so fair warning. Standard disclaimers apply.

* * *

Danny sat very still in his desk, not listening to a word Mr. Lancer was saying. It was safer that way. He had to keep his mind blank. There had been too many…accidents. No one had pieced it together yet, not even his parents, but that was only a matter of time.

The cold feeling within his body grew, and he tried not to shiver.

 _Don't think cold._ (Ice monsters and yetis.) _Don't think hot._ (Dragons and fire demons.) _Don't think. Don't think. Don't think._

"Please, please, please, no," Danny mumbled, closing his eyes and tightening his grip on the edges of his desk. "Stop, stop, stop, stop, stop."

Hard wood beneath his fingertips, grooves cut into otherwise smooth sides through wear and tear and the dedicated filing of bored students. The constant drone of Lancer's voice, the occasional scratch of pen on paper, creaking desks as students shifted in their seats. A sneeze. Higher-pitched murmuring followed by quiet laughter. A rustle of paper. Birds, singing outside—

 _Don't think birds._ Those vultures— _No_.

He could feel it coming, whatever it was, trying to claw its way out from inside him. Icy talons raked across his gut, climbing higher, reaching past his heart, past his lungs—

Danny coughed and saw faint wisps of his breath. He plastered one hand over his mouth and shot the other into the air, waving it frantically.

"Yes, Mr. Fenton?"

He was already halfway out of his seat. "Sorry, Mr. Lancer. I think I'm going to be sick."

He ran, not waiting for verbal permission, let alone a hall pass, and Lancer let him go, maybe because he _did_ look sick. He certainly _felt_ like he was going to vomit. Whatever was churning inside of him wasn't content to stay there much longer. It was hard to breathe—his lungs felt frozen—but he still pushed himself toward the bathroom and the little privacy it offered.

The violent coughing started as he reached the water fountain, and he saw the bit of water still clinging to the sides of the fountain's drain freeze on his way by. Seconds later, he was hanging over the toilet, convinced that whatever was inside was trying to kill him. He couldn't breathe for coughing, and he felt faint, sinking to his knees and clinging to smooth porcelain, waiting for it to be over….

"Danny? You okay in there? Lancer sent me to check on you."

Tucker.

Danny wanted to say something, but he could only retch in response. Icy mist filled the stall. The bowl was full of frozen water, and hoar frost was settling on every surface. He couldn't tell if he was shaking because it was so cold or because he couldn't stop gagging and coughing.

"Danny?"

The stall door creaked open; he hadn't remembered to lock it.

He retched again, and this time he could feel something struggling up his throat. He tried to cough, to get it out of there, but he couldn't draw breath. His chest heaved. He could feel something scrabbling for purchase in his mouth. He gagged. His mouth was full of feathers.

The head emerged first, followed by one wing and then the next, and then it was out of his mouth. He gasped, gulping in the precious air, still frigid but no longer intensely cold. He leaned back against the cold cement blocks of the wall, exhausted. The bird—blue, ethereal, and thankfully much smaller than those vultures had been; maybe some sort of tern—shook itself off and squawked at him before flying through the wall.

The ice finally began to melt.

"Danny, what _was_ that?"

He'd forgotten about Tucker.

"Is…is this what you've been hiding from me and Sam?" A shaky breath from behind him. "I mean, I can't exactly blame you, dude, but that…."

Tucker didn't—couldn't—finish.

He didn't need to.

Danny closed his eyes. "I'll figure this out," he whispered. "I'll figure out how to make it stop, or at least how to control it. I just…haven't yet."

"Sam and I can help," Tucker offered, but they both knew the truth of the matter. Sam and Tucker wouldn't be able to help him with this. Jazz wouldn't be able to, either, if he decided to confide in her. He wasn't even sure his parents would be any help. Ghost experts or not, they'd never mentioned anything like this.

Whatever this was, he was on his own.


	2. Chapter 2

Danny hated going into the basement. It wasn't the unpleasant smell of chemicals or burnt ectoplasm or the way the harsh, fluorescent lights reflected off all the metal that bothered him so much. It was the gaping hole in the wall, the failed portal, and the memories and pain that it held.

The Fenton Ghost Portal wasn't functional. At Sam's insistence, he'd even gone in to check it out after his parents had given up on it—and that's when _this_ had happened, after the flash and the smoke and the shock and the _pain_.

The portal had never truly worked. Not like it was meant to. His parents thought the occasional ghost turning up was the result of a 'weakening of the walls between the realms'. As Jack repeatedly put it, "It means we're getting close, Danny-boy! Soon we'll be able to study that ectoplasmic scum in its own environment! And whenever one of 'em slips through, we'll tear it apart molecule by molecule!"

They seemed to think they had been building a window.

Danny wasn't sure the truth had occurred to them, that it was actually a door. A passageway. A curse.

Danny avoided looking at the empty portal as he grabbed his dad's latest invention, some kind of ghost tracker. It would point to him, of course. It would always point to him.

He wasn't sure if he was imagining the scrabbling sound of claws on glass as he walked past shelves of captured ghosts, held in their prisons by his parents' anti-ecto coating. Not all of them had claws or talons; some were still just formless blobs, with eyes being their only recognizable feature.

He tried not to think about it.

Thinking about it would only invite more to come.

Danny headed back up the stairs two at a time. He slammed the door closed, forgetting for a moment that his parents were right there, and mumbled an apology as they looked at him. He dropped the new invention on the kitchen table and kept walking.

"Danny-boy, you haven't had breakfast! Don't you even want some Fenton Toast?"

No. He didn't want to be anywhere around here when his dad inevitably turned on his invention, something that would occur within seconds, not minutes.

He shook his head, but his mother caught his arm before he could escape. "Are you feeling okay, sweetie? You're looking a little green around the gills."

Something inside him was roiling, and it wasn't his stomach. "I'm fine," he said. "I'm just not hungry."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I just…." He shrugged out of his mother's grip. "I'm tired, I guess. I'm going to go back to bed."

It was a weekend; they wouldn't question that. The only reason he'd gotten up this early was because one of the ghosts had managed to edge its jar off the end of the shelf this morning, smashing it to the floor and escaping. Maddie had spent half the morning securing the other jars in their shelves to avoid a repeat incident while Jack had tried to track down the ghost with the Assault Vehicle, to no avail. Jazz was still holed up in her room, claiming that she was working on an important assignment. If Danny had thought he could get away with it, he wouldn't have emerged, either, but he doubted his parents would have believed that.

So emerge he had, and then he'd been put to work, fetching this and that, finally grabbing the forgotten tracker from the basement.

"All right, honey. Let me know if you need anything."

Danny nodded and made his escape, but his room wasn't the sanctuary it had once been. Closing the door was no longer a guarantee of solace. Not when it was no longer the only door.

Danny lay down on his bed and stared at the ceiling. Blankness. That was good. It could be anything, it could be nothing, and if that's all he focused on, maybe this feeling would go away before something could escape. It had worked before.

 _Breathe in. Breathe out. Slowly. In. Out._ _In. Out._ _Nothing. Anything. Everything._ The ceiling was blank, formless. He could remain calm, and the portal within him could quiet again and close.

He wished he had someone to confide in. Someone who could understand. Someone who wouldn't look at him with fear. Sam and Tucker…. There was only so much support someone can give you when they know nothing, when they fear what's happening as much as you do. He couldn't blame them; he was afraid of this. Everyone would be, if they knew. That's why he didn't want to tell anyone. How could you not fear the unknown? _Anything_ could crawl out from inside him, and he couldn't stop it. He was dangerous, the equivalent of a walking time bomb, only he didn't know how much damage there would be when—

Danny spun onto his stomach, clung to the side of the bed, and heaved. Nothing came up, not even vapour, and the urge passed. He rolled back over, exhausted, and closed his eyes. Until he could figure this out, he needed a distraction more than anything else. He needed someone to keep his parents busy until he could get this under control.

He didn't fear them, not really. They wouldn't try to tear him apart to find out what was inside him—it definitely felt like something had settled inside him—but he didn't want to go to them unable to answer anything. Once he had an idea of how this worked, once he could actually explain any of this and be better able to help them help him— That's when he could tell them. But before that? It would only worry them, and they were busy enough trying to deal with the ghosts he released. He didn't want to add to their burden any more than he already was.

(Jazz would argue this if she knew. Danny knew that. Jazz would tell him they'd want to know. But she didn't know what this felt like. He wanted to regain some sense of control. Since this had happened, it felt like he'd had none at all.)

Danny's stomach turned, and he was gagging even before he was hanging over the bed again. Sickly green vapour spilled from his mouth. He couldn't seem to swallow it back, couldn't focus enough to try to throw himself into a detached meditative state to see if that would shut this off. It was coming, whatever it was, and there would be no stopping it.

There was a knock at his door. "Danny? Are you okay in there, sweetie?"

 _No._ But he could only retch, bringing up more vapour, and then something solid filled his throat and he had no breath for even that.

He heard the door open and then _thunk_ against the dresser he'd moved in front of it; it was the closest he could get to a lock. "Danny," came Maddie's voice, her tone one of tested patience, "I know you want some more privacy, but we've talked about this."

There was a hand coming out of his mouth.

"Are you going to let me in or do I need to ask your father to come up here?"

His throat was being scraped raw. His jaw must be broken. The _pain_ —

Hands found his shoulders and _pushed_. He would have collapsed if he hadn't been lying down. Was he already on the floor? He couldn't remember falling off the bed.

"At least answer me, honey."

The person— _ghost_ —which had just crawled from Danny's mouth turned to look at him. It had no face, or at least no recognizable features, but then he blinked and suddenly it _did_. More specifically, it had _his_ features.

It opened its mouth and said in his voice, "Sorry, Mom. I'm okay. Just trying to sleep."

Danny stared at it, unable to find the breath to scream.

"Please keep your doorway clear, sweetie. I know you think I worry too much, but I'm concerned about your safety."

"Sure, Mom."

He heard the floor creak as she moved away, the steady thumps of her feet on the stairs. He couldn't bring himself to look away from the _thing_ that had his face.

It twisted its features— _his features_ —into a smile. "I think I'm going to have fun here." It stood and walked over to him; he wanted to get up and run, to yell, to do _anything_ , but he was frozen in place. How could it look like him? How could it sound like him? How did it know so much?

It leaned down, and its smile widened. "I'm good at distractions," it cooed. "Don't you worry about that." And then it crouched in front of him and moved in far too close, breathing into his ear, "What you need to worry about is what will happen if you don't keep our little secret."

Danny flinched back, closing his eyes and trying to keep still. He wouldn't win if this ghost decided to fight him, decided to _replace_ him. The thought of that, of what this ghost could do, terrified him. He didn't open his eyes until he got his breathing under control and could hear above the pounding of his heart in his head.

When he did, he was alone.


	3. Chapter 3

The device sparked and died in Danny's hands. It was just another failed prototype, another thing he couldn't use.

His parents didn't understand the reason for the increase in ghostly activity, but once the ghosts had begun causing trouble, they'd turned from the intent to study to the intent to defend. For every capture and containment device they invented, they created two more offensive weapons with the intent of protecting of Amity Park.

But they didn't know enough about the ghosts for everything to be effective, and their miscalculations—

"You haven't learned yet, have you?" the ghost before Danny taunted. It had changed again and was back to wearing his face, using his voice. It knew how much that unsettled him. "You thought you could fight. That's cute. But you can't. You don't know how this works. You don't understand anything. You don't even understand yourself." It smiled at him and tilted its head. "I do."

Danny tried to swallow down the fear that was crawling back up his throat. The ghost was right; he didn't know everything. He was still trying to figure it out. And he was failing. And because of that, this ghost was….

Danny didn't know for sure, but there had been…incidents. Too many for him to believe it a coincidence when he knew what this ghost could do. He'd started keeping a sharper eye out, searching for any sort of clue, and that's when he'd seen Valerie walk past the Nasty Burger.

Even though he could see her inside, talking to Star.

He'd cut and run without giving Sam and Tucker an explanation, but they had most likely assumed that _it_ was happening again, that something was coming. They couldn't help him stop it, and he didn't want everyone to know, so in the end it had become routine for them to distract anyone who tried to follow him while he found somewhere private. It was the only way they knew how to help, the only way he wanted them to help. Everything else was too dangerous.

But he'd thought the weapon he'd stolen from the lab last week would work.

He hadn't thought he'd be facing down a ghost unprepared.

The ecto-gun prototype had passed its preliminary tests, but it hadn't been able to stand up in a real fight. One good blast had sent it flying across the warehouse floor, and even after he'd managed to retrieve it…. Maybe it was frozen, maybe it was fried, but the ghost had disrupted it somehow. He'd had a moment of hope when he'd first tried using it again, but now it wouldn't even power up.

The ghost lunged forward, and Danny wasn't fast enough to get out of the way. It tackled him and held him down in a grip stronger than Danny's own, and its grin grew. The disturbed dust motes had Danny coughing, but somehow, the slight grey coating on the ghost's hair only made it seem more sinister. "You've been very good about keeping our secret," it said, not seeming to exert any effort in keeping Danny pinned no matter how hard he struggled, "but in light of your little plan, failure though it was, I'm not sure that's enough."

Shock stilled him for a moment. "What do you mean?" His voice climbed, betraying his panic if his face hadn't already done so.

"You're powerful, but you're not very useful as you are," the ghost said frankly. "I should keep you somewhere till I can bring more of my friends out to play. I wouldn't have to do much more than leave a trail of clues in the wrong direction and make a big show of running away, and then we could have more time together."

Danny tried to choke out some kind of protest, but it came out as a wordless whine. He wished he thought someone would hear him if he screamed, but he realized now the ghost had led him here on purpose. Towards the old industrial part of town. Through a hole in a loose chain-link fence, in through the side door with the broken lock, and out into the thick dust and cobwebs of some old manufacturing plant.

"Oh, I wouldn't hurt you more than I need to," the ghost assured him. "We're friends, aren't we?"

Danny didn't answer, and the ghost laughed.

"You'll like my friends, too. We have such fun together, and it won't take much for you to bring them through."

Unfortunately, that was true enough. It really wouldn't. Not when Danny could barely control this.

He'd gotten a bit better at actually emptying his mind instead of picking something to focus on, but he could still count on both hands the number of times he'd actually been successful in closing the passageway inside of him. And the moment he wasn't alone, the moment he couldn't focus, the moment this ghost decided to _torture_ him—

It needed him alive, but that was about it. It didn't need him healthy, or mobile, or really anything beyond conscious enough to allow the portal inside him to open. And considering he'd woken from dreams with ghostly fire searing in his throat or spitting up leaves, he wasn't wholly sure about the conscious part, either.

The ghost had called him powerful, but it was only the thing inside him that was powerful.

"My parents will know you're not me," Danny whispered. "My sister, my friends—"

"—have never noticed before." The ghost was dismissive, but the words took away Danny's breath. He didn't need to think too hard to understand the implications. The ghost had masqueraded as him before and gotten away with it. It had been planning this. It might have even planned _all_ of this.

Instead of catching it off its guard, Danny had followed it into a trap.

And now he was going to pay for that mistake.

The ghost abruptly released him and climbed to its feet. "I'll come get you when I'm ready," it said.

Danny stared at it from his position on the cold concrete floor, still trembling and not trusting that the ghost was really letting him go. Maybe it was just another trick. Maybe it was messing with him, wanting him to think he was free before it—

"But just know that if you tell anyone," it continued blithely, "I'll possess your sister first. She should be able to remind me how much blood human bodies hold."

Danny blanched and abruptly found himself fighting the urge to be sick—actually sick, not ghost-sick. He spun onto his hands and knees and gagged, coughing and hacking and heaving. Phlegm splattered onto the floor, and he tried to calm his breathing before something worse decided to follow.

When he finally sat back, he wasn't surprised to find that he was alone.

Just like last time.

Like he would be next time, unless he could find a way to stop the ghost first.

Danny closed his eyes on his tears and balled his hands into fists, trying to battle his emotions back into submission. He couldn't afford to lose control. That's what it wanted. The more chaos there was, the more distracted his parents would be.

It wanted him to panic. It wanted him focused on its threats, too terrified to turn to anyone for help. It wanted his parents focused on all the other ghosts so that they never realized it was there. It wanted his friends to stay ignorant of how deep this went so that he'd be easier to replace when the time came. If he did all that, it would win.

But if he kicked up a fuss, it wouldn't hesitate when it came to following through on its threat.

It didn't care about his family or his friends.

It just wanted to control him.

How was he supposed to fight back against a ghost when the only weapons he had didn't even work?

"There has to be a way," Danny murmured. "There just has to be."

But he didn't know who he could turn to for help without the ghost finding out. He didn't even know what his next move should be. Unless his parents invented something that worked consistently….

He'd figure something out.

He had to.


	4. Chapter 4

It came when Danny was too tired to keep looking over his shoulder.

In the dissociative fog of too little sleep and too many secrets, he didn't question his mother's cooed concern.

It wasn't, after all, the first time she'd taken one look at him and ushered him off to bed, insisting he get some sleep before supper, maybe then he would feel better, and he wasn't running a fever, was he?

He'd obediently stumbled along right up until she'd turned around with a washcloth instead of a thermometer and held it over his mouth and nose while he struggled.

When he woke with a pounding headache and something that was probably blood crusting his left eye shut, he was handcuffed to some heavy metal shelving by a pair of Fenton Cuffs. Despite practice, he still couldn't get out of those without a key. He knew dislocating his thumb was a likely necessity, but he had no idea how to do that and cause minimal damage.

The room was dark, but he didn't need light or two good eyes to see the ghost fiddling with…something…nearby.

It still looked like his mom.

"You were out longer than I expected," it laughed without even looking over at him. "I thought you were supposed to be more resilient. Isn't it thrilling when stories like that are exaggerated?"

"What…what do you want?" Danny rasped, forcing the words past his thick tongue.

"Oh, you know exactly what I want." It glanced over at him now, and its smile looked wrong on Maddie's face. "And you know exactly what will happen if you try to escape."

"You can't keep me here." His voice was more weak than defiant, even to his ears. "They'll know I'm missing. They'll find me."

"They'll never know to look for you," it reminded him, "and you can scream all you like, but you'll never be heard here. Not through concrete that thick." It nodded at the walls, or at least Danny assumed it did; he couldn't see much past its ghostly glow. He couldn't even really see what it had been working on.

"I'll go find you some food, sweetie," it said, and this time the inflections of his mother's mimicked voice were heartbreakingly perfect. "Try to get some rest."

It strode past him, illuminating more empty shelving units far too heavy for him to hope to move, and vanished through a blank wall.

He was alone in the darkness.

Danny tried to shift to find a more comfortable position, even to have something to lean against that was more solid than the crisscrossing metal bars, but there was nothing but that or open air. The concrete beneath him wasn't warming to his body heat, either, and he wasn't sure if he was shaking or shivering. Either way, the crick in his neck was hurting even more now, but he couldn't even manoeuvre a hand around to rub it.

He needed help.

He had no way of getting help.

Even if he did, he had no one he could ask without endangering them. Without giving the ghost reason to kill them. He was all alone, no one knew where he was, no one would know he was missing, and this ghost was going to keep him alive long enough to get its friends out and then it was going to kill him, and no one was ever going to know what had happened to him.

The salt in Danny's tears stung wounds he didn't realize he'd had on his face, but they were enough to allow him to open his left eye. Not much—it was still mostly swollen shut—but a little bit, and a little bit would be enough. Not that he could see anything, anyway, but it felt better, as much as anything that still hurt could feel better.

"Please." Danny knew no one would hear his whispers. "Please, I need…. I need someone." He didn't know if it was a prayer. "I can't do this by myself. I need help."

He groaned and leaned his head on his arms, slumping forward as best he could. He could shift his legs into different positions, and he did, carefully stretching them out when they started to fall asleep, but he could do nothing for his arms, which were bound to the top half of the lowest shelf, stopped from dropping farther by a diagonal bar.

He didn't think things could get any worse, but then his stomach turned.

"No," Danny moaned. "No, please, not now."

But the sickening coldness inside of him only grew stronger, and he couldn't will it away.

He began to cough.

Something was lodged in his throat, and he couldn't get it out, couldn't breathe, but he managed to climb to his feet and lean over, trying to draw air.

It seemed like an eternity before something hit the floor and skittered a short distance away. He didn't have a chance to find it and see what it was; he only had a moment to gasp in air before something else blocked the airway, pressing it closed as it began to slither its way up his throat. He gagged. Retched. Thought his jaw might break as it pulled itself free, rolling over his arms and away.

He'd collapsed back onto his knees at some point and sagged against the cold metal bars of the shelving unit with his eyes closed, not having any energy to fight whichever of the ghost's friends had just come through.

"Have you seen my peepers?"

Danny forced open his good eye. "What?" The ghost facing him certainly didn't look like anyone special; he just looked like a teenager. A teenager who would've lived decades ago, but still a teenager, probably around Danny's own age. And more nerd than someone who'd roll with the ghost who was keeping him here.

The ghost pointed to his eyes and repeated himself before adding, "I can't see without them."

"Your glasses?" He thought of what had come first and turned his head in the direction of where he'd heard something fall. "Look over there. Your left."

A sharp cry of delight a moment later told him the ghost had found them. He turned back to Danny, straightening his glasses, and then frowned and walked closer. "Someone think you were cruisin' for a bruisin'? You're going to have a real shiner there."

Danny just shook his head.

"I don't like bullies," the ghost remarked.

"Neither do I," mumbled Danny.

The ghost paused. Leaned closer and squinted at him. And then he drew back in surprise. "It really is you!"

Danny had no idea what that was supposed to mean, so he just ignored it and closed his eyes, hoping the ghost would go away.

He didn't. "Why take the pounding? Why didn't ya just beat feet? Or fight back?"

Danny opened his eyes and let out something that could only generously be described as a laugh. "How could I _fight back_?" he asked. "I'm just _me_ , up against someone like you, someone probably _stronger_ than you. I can't do anything, and even if I'd tried, they would just…carry out their threats."

The ghost stared at him. "You…. That's bogus."

Danny rattled the handcuffs against the support bar. "You think I wanted this? Any of this?"

"Nobody _wants_ a knuckle sandwich," the ghost replied, "but that doesn't mean you didn't let the other guy do that to you."

"Why the heck would I do that?"

"So he thinks he can. So he doesn't know what you can do."

"But I _can't_ do anything. That's my problem!"

The ghost furrowed his brow. "But you're the young gatekeeper."

"The what?" Danny didn't really need the clarification. He already knew what the ghost meant. He was talking about this _thing_ inside of him, the passageway he couldn't seem to keep closed. He just didn't understand why the ghost had said it like that was important. "What's that got to do with anything?"

"You really don't know. How can you not know?"

"Not know _what_?" Danny pressed, but the other ghost wasn't paying attention to him anymore. He was looking somewhere else, at something Danny couldn't see in the dark. And then he vanished. "Not know what?" Danny whispered again, just in case the ghost was still around and simply not visible.

He waited.

He didn't get an answer.

A moment later, his captor breezed in, masked as one of the delivery workers at the Nasty Burger. It tossed a bag at Danny's feet and went back to whatever it had been working on.

It didn't seem to care that Danny couldn't have reached the food even if he'd been hungry enough to eat it.


	5. Chapter 5

Danny woke to someone shaking him. He groaned, tired and sore and stiff. His tongue felt like cotton in his mouth, and he was so cold, and—

"Here."

He didn't recognize the voice at first, but he felt the straw at his lips, and he drank. Too late, he remembered where he was and what had him. He spat what he could of the liquid on the floor—what if it was _poison_?—and tried to focus on the ghost in front of him, squinting against the bright light it gave off.

It looked like his somewhat-friend from before, but that meant nothing.

The ghost had a disgusted look on its face and flickered intangible for a moment, letting what little of Danny's spittle had hit it fall to the floor. "I was just trying to help," it spluttered, and Danny decided that if it was the ghost who had taken him, it had done a good job of copying the new ghost. "Look, I ain't wanting to write a book here, but were you playing it straight earlier? You don't know what it means to be the gatekeeper?"

It _was_ his friend. Assuming Danny could call any ghost his friend. "Yeah," he admitted, and reached out his free hand for the cup of pop the ghost still held. The ghost handed it over, and Danny drank. The drink was warm and flat, and sweeter for that, but it was still _something_.

"So you don't…." The ghost trailed off. "You don't know?"

"Don't know what?"

The ghost just nodded, ignoring Danny's question and asking another of his own. "Why'd you call through a shifter?"

Danny just stared at him.

"The other ghost. They're a shifter." Danny still didn't know how to respond, so the ghost added, very deliberately, "They can change their shape."

"Yeah, I gathered that," Danny shot back, "but that doesn't mean I know what you mean when you say I called it through!"

"Them," the ghost corrected. "Don't have a hissy fit. I don't know how much time we've got till they come back, and I want to split before they do."

It wasn't worth arguing. Danny drained the last of the drink and threw the cup at the ghost. It passed right through him and rolled underneath the next shelving unit. "I don't even know who you are! Why should I trust you, anyway?"

The ghost straightened his glasses. "You called me through, too. Do you think I _wanted_ to leave my pad for this place?"

"Wh…. I didn't _call_ anyone, okay?"

"Sure did. Me, anyway. For all I know, your shifter friend might've forced themselves through. Since you're doing such a swell job of gatekeeping." The ghost stuck out his hand. "Sidney Poindexter."

"Can you just get me out of here?"

Sidney scowled and dropped his hand. "Already tried. Can't get you out of those," he said, nodding at the handcuffs. "Not sure even you could."

"I could if I had the key," Danny muttered. But at this point, having the key was a pipe dream. He'd settle for what was supposed to have been yesterday's supper, except it seemed to have disappeared. (Was it only yesterday? It seemed like so long ago, except that for all Danny knew, it was _still_ yesterday, sometime in the middle of the night.) He supposed he should be thankful his captor had left him the drink. Assuming Sidney hadn't just eaten his supper and wasn't owning up to it.

"I'm not a creator. I can't help you."

Danny thought about asking what a creator was and then decided it was probably exactly what it sounded like. "Look, just…. You're helping me. Why?"

"I don't like bullies," Sidney said, repeating his words from earlier. "And you're being bullied. And you called me through."

"I still don't get that. The calling thing."

"It's…." Sidney waved a hand up and down at him. "It's who you are. One of the things you can do. As the young gatekeeper."

"The other ghost, it…they…said that I didn't understand anything. That I didn't understand myself."

Sidney crossed his arms. "They're right, aren't they?"

Unfortunately, they were, and Sidney wasn't doing anything that was really helping with that. "You said this calling thing is one of the things I can do. What else can I do?" If he could at least get some answers….

"I don't know. What else _can_ you do?"

Or not.

"Nothing, apparently." He couldn't feel his arm. He'd have to move, to get up and let the blood flow back into it, but that was going to hurt. "Listen. This ghost. They…they threatened my family."

"What are you going to do?"

"I can't _do_ anything! That's the problem! They…they want me to bring their friends through and, I dunno, probably take over the world or something crazy like that, and I can't stop them! How am I supposed to stop them? If I try, they'll just hurt the people I love. They'll _kill_ them."

"But…." Sidney was staring at him again. "But you're strong enough to stop that. You're stronger than they are."

"No, I'm not." If he didn't get any more food or water, he wouldn't be strong enough to do anything, let alone resist some evil ghost. "I can't do anything. You can't do anything. You know what, why don't you just go home? You don't want to be here anyway."

Sidney glanced around and shifted uncertainly, even though his feet weren't even touching the floor. "I…can't."

"Of course you can't." He couldn't do anything, either. Danny wondered why he'd ever thought he could. He was stuck here, at the mercy of some psychopathic shapeshifting ghost who wanted to use him and would kill his family if Danny didn't do what they wanted, and the only one who knew what was going on, who might be able to help, was another ghost who couldn't do anything useful.

If Danny didn't think it would backfire, he'd ask the ghost to take a message for him. To Sam and Tucker, maybe. They'd be safer than his parents, especially for a ghost. But the shifter ghost knew too much about him for Danny to want to risk that. He couldn't risk any of them.

And if he asked Sidney for help, or at least for something so blatant, he would be.

And he'd be responsible for whatever the shifter did in retaliation.

"Just go away."

"Gatekeeper—"

"My name's Danny!" There were tears in his eyes. He was angry, frustrated, scared, and it was just all coming out. "So thanks for nothing, Sidney. Try not to get yourself blasted by some ghost-hunting tech if you stick around to try to haunt this town."

Sidney didn't move. "You didn't call me here to haunt this town."

" _I didn't call you here_!"

"You did," he snapped back. "You did, and now you're just being a bully, too! So maybe I won't help you after all, because bullies don't deserve to be helped." He vanished.

Danny didn't try to call him back.

He didn't feel like apologizing yet. He wouldn't mean it. Right now, he could tell he'd hit a sensitive subject, and that was too satisfying for him to feel particularly apologetic.

But now that Sidney was gone, he was alone again.

In the dark.

Still thirsty. Still hungry. Still sore and still tired.

And still out of options, knowing next to nothing as he did.

"I don't know what to do," Danny whispered. He didn't know how long it had been. Was it still the middle of the night? Or was the shifter out there somewhere, pretending to be him? Pretending everything was fine in Danny Fenton's life? Did Sam and Tucker suspect anything? Did Jazz? His parents might not, if it was just a short period of time, but….

But what if no one noticed? What if the shifter was right? What if their earlier words hadn't been a lie?

 _You're stronger than they are._ Why would Sidney think that? The only thing he could do—the only thing the shifter wanted him for—was to bring through a whole bunch of ghosts that would just make everything worse. _Call them through_ , if Sidney was to be believed, though Danny still didn't know what that meant.

This thing that was inside of him? He didn't want it there. He definitely didn't want anything coming through it. But that didn't mean he could stop it.

This had all been an accident.

Why couldn't it have just been a normal accident, even if it was the kind that sent him to the hospital, like it would have if he'd been part of a normal family?

He didn't want to be used like this.

He didn't want his friends and family hurt because of anything he did—or didn't do.

But regardless of what Sidney said, he didn't have some kind of power that—

"Awake already, little brother?"

He didn't need to see the soft glow coming off Jazz's form to know it wasn't really her, but he hated how his heart had jumped with hope. He didn't want Jazz to find him here. He didn't want her in danger.

But he knew that if she had any inkling that he was in danger, she'd come looking for him, even in all the illogical places. Because he was her little brother. She didn't have to understand him—or whatever he got himself into—to love him.

"You should be getting your rest," the shifter ghost cooed as they crouched next to him. "You're going to need your strength."

All the more reason not to rest, in his opinion.

"It'll only prolong the process if you're weak," they continued, their tone matching Jazz's matter-of-factness with heart-wrenching accuracy. "You might think that's a good thing, that it'll buy you time, but there's really no point. You're going to stay with me for as long as I want you to."

"No, I won't," Danny whispered, but the defiance in his tone was betrayed by his fear.

"It's cute that you think that." They got to their feet, looked around, and frowned. "You ate."

He hadn't, but Danny wasn't going to admit that. "You brought me food. I thought you said I needed my strength. What was I supposed to do, throw it away?"

They turned back to him and narrowed their eyes. "Someone else was here."

"What?" He couldn't stop his voice from spiking in panic. "No, it's just me!"

They grabbed him and hauled him to his feet, his arm nearly being wrenched out of its socket as it was twisted around thanks to the cuffs. "Who knows you're here?" they hissed. "Which little friend do you have helping you?"

"I don't have anyone!" Danny protested, and he tried not to think about the fact that it was true. That he'd driven away the only person…ghost…who might've helped him.

"I'm not a fool," the shifter snapped. "No food wrappers in sight. Why would that be, if you can't move from here?"

"I don't know! Mice? Seriously, I was asleep!"

"Then maybe you should sleep for a little longer," snarled the ghost, and Danny couldn't avoid the punch that caught him on the side of the jaw.


	6. Chapter 6

When Danny woke up, his hands were cuffed in front of him, but his legs were free. He pushed himself into a sitting position, and for a moment, he thought the motion was going to make him sick. His head spun.

After a moment, he trusted himself enough to open his eyes again. Disorientating darkness still cloaked the entire room. Or whatever this was. All he could feel was cool metal beneath him, and he wasn't up for exploring beyond that quite yet.

"Please," he whispered, "just let me go."

His voice echoed back at him.

He forced his eyes back open—when had they closed?—and slowly looked around, but he couldn't even see a different level of darkness, something lighter than the rest. No windows, wherever this was. Maybe no doors, either, considering he was dealing with a ghost. He'd seen them pass through solid objects; it might not be too difficult for them to take something—or some _one_ —with them.

"Hello?"

The word came back too quickly.

Wherever he was, it couldn't be terribly large.

Danny forced himself to his feet, hands stretched out in front of him, and slowly turned. No walls. That was good. Not too small of a space, then. But a couple staggered steps to the right and he _did_ hit a wall, also metal. He trailed his hands along the vertical ripples, carefully searching the darkness with one foot before stepping forward. Ten steps took him to another wall, but it was only three from there until the next one, and—

"You can't get out on your own."

Danny spun, regretting it even as he searched for the taunting voice of his captor. The ghost had to be invisible. In darkness this complete, their ghostly glow would burn like the sun.

"But, please," they said dryly, still speaking in a perfect mimic of Jazz's voice, "do keep trying. I could use the entertainment."

"Why won't you let me go?"

"Oh, you already know that," they replied, and he could hear the smile in their voice. "You haven't given me what I want."

He wanted to cry. He didn't…. He couldn't…. Danny blinked back tears, leaning against the wall for support, and said nothing.

"But don't worry. We have plenty of time for that. No one's searching for you here."

No one was searching for him _here_. But they were still searching? The ghost hadn't managed to carry out their plan to make it seem like he was still around? What would have made him change it?

Danny was doing a dismal job of keeping the hope off his face, but he didn't _think_ ghosts could see in the dark. Most of them, anyway. But with a shapeshifter, who knew? If they could change every part of their body, couldn't they make eyes that could see in the dark? Was there even enough light for that in here if they could?

"You'll be happy to know I brought you a pail this time," they added, their voice suddenly softer and speaking right into his ear. He jerked back, knocking his head on the wall and wincing. Over the pounding in his head, he could still hear them talking to him. "I'm not a complete monster, whatever your parents say. Not that they're saying much about ghosts when they think you ran away all on your own."

"I hate you." The words didn't come out nearly as strong as he would've liked. He licked his parched lips with a thick tongue and poured more venom into his words. "I hate you! You can't do this to me! Someone's going to figure this out and save me!"

"You better hope they don't," the ghost countered, "if you really care about them. Ta-ta, kiddo."

Danny sunk slowly to the floor, not bothering to bite back his sobs this time. How could he have messed up this much? If he hadn't been too scared to tell his parents what was going on, maybe they could've figured out a way to stop this from happening before that _thing_ had come through. Or maybe, if he'd figured out how to fight back more, even though he was fighting a ghost, maybe, just maybe—

"Yeesh, I never thought that crazy cat would leave."

Danny started and looked up. He squinted as much at the sudden light as through the blur of tears, and he lifted his arms to try to wipe the wetness away. Sidney Poindexter's ghostly glow was enough to light up his prison—a shipping container, from the looks of it, with the promised pail in the far corner. Danny was suddenly glad he was too dehydrated to need it right now. "You came back?" he croaked.

The ghost shrugged and rubbed at one arm. "Once I found you again. You called me through for help. Least I can do is help you, even if you don't want me to."

"I do. I'm sorry."

"Water off a duck's back," Sidney said dismissively as he moved to hover closer to Danny. He pointed at the cuffs. "Like I said, I can't get you out of those. You're gonna have to try."

"Just because my parents make these, doesn't mean I carry a key with me, so how am I supposed to do that?"

"But you shouldn't…." Sidney drew back, then lowered himself so he was sitting opposite Danny. "You're the gatekeeper. You don't _need_ a key."

Danny stared at him. He didn't want to get into another argument with the only ghost—the only _being_ —who could help him right now, but Sidney was making that awfully hard. "Just because I _called you through_ , whatever that means, doesn't mean I can get out of a pair of Fenton Cuffs without a key. I can't will them open or whatever."

Sidney snorted. "Who said anything about willing them open? Telekinesis isn't common enough for me to make that assumption."

 _You did too say that_ , Danny almost retorted, but he hadn't, not really. And he didn't really want to think about the fact that telekinetic ghosts existed when it meant he might meet one of them sooner rather than never, which was preferable. Instead, he asked, "How else am I supposed to get them open? Or off? And if you try to say something about dislocating my thumb, I don't even know how to do that."

Sidney raised an eyebrow. "Blast 'em? Freeze 'em? Burn 'em? Whatever you can do. I don't know what powers you control."

"I don't have powers _to_ control."

"But you're the gatekeeper."

"Will you stop calling me that? It doesn't mean anything! I don't have powers!"

Sidney cocked his head and let out a low whistle. "You really believe that, don't you?"

Danny officially hated this conversation.

Just…not as much as he hated being kept captive by a shapeshifting ghost who had threatened to hurt the people he loved and wouldn't have any qualms about doing that.

Sidney straightened up, rising to a standing position with a fluidity Danny was pretty sure only a ghost could achieve. "Hard way it is, then. You ready to beat feet?"

Danny was pretty sure that meant _leave_ , so he nodded. "How are you going to get me out of these?" He held up his arms for emphasis.

Sidney shook his head. "Those'll have to stay on. Them and me? Won't mix. I could drag you through a wall, but I couldn't drag _them_ through a wall, and I can't drag you through them, so you'd be stuck. This'll have to be the old-fashioned way. I'll open the door, and then I gotta split before the shifter comes back and finds me. You'll have a bit of a drop, nothing you can't survive, but then you'll need to cut out before you're seen." He paused. "Don't go home."

Danny's heart sank. "Why not? My parents can help me."

Sidney pointed to the floor. "I've been around for a bit. Listening. Wouldn't trust that shifter as far as I could throw them. Till you're ready to rattle, I wouldn't call that snake in for a fight."

"My parents have weapons," Danny said, but he'd already tried that. He wasn't sure which weapons worked. "They could…. They'll help me. We can fight this guy."

"Fastest way to end up fighting each other. They're a _shifter_." Sidney spread his hands. "But if you think you'll be able to tell…."

They both knew he couldn't, so Danny let his shoulders sag in defeat. "I can't just run away. I don't have any money, and I'll need food and water." And a place to sleep, and probably medical attention, and—

"So hide in the last place they'll look for you."

"But I don't know where that is!"

"Anywhere you wouldn't normally hang."

Danny still didn't know where that would be, but he'd rather figure that out somewhere that was not here. "Okay, fine, whatever. I'm ready. I'll just…. I'll figure something out." He forced himself to his feet again. "Thanks."

"Thank me once you're safe. I'll find you. If you're any good, that won't be easy."

"Thanks," Danny repeated, but Sidney had already phased through the door. Darkness descended again, but the shipping container was nearly empty, so Danny didn't find it too difficult to make his way forward. And when the door cracked open, bringing with it fresh air and the dim light of—dawn? Dusk? He wasn't sure yet—Danny moved faster.

Sidney was gone to Danny's eyes when he made it to the edge, but he didn't need the light of Sidney's ghostly glow to see the drop. It was dusk, the sun sinking low beyond the edge of town, and there was still enough light around for him to see that he was at the docks.

And that his shipping container was perched on top of another shipping container. That was, what, eight feet down? With packed gravel below? It wouldn't be so bad if he had full use of his arms and could hang over the side before dropping, but just _jumping_?

"Sidney?" Danny called as loudly as he dared. "Can you maybe, um, fly me down or something?"

Silence.

Well, he had said he wasn't going to stick around. Danny knew he shouldn't be surprised. Sidney was scared of the shapeshifter, and Danny couldn't blame him. To be fair, he wasn't sure _why_ Sidney was scared—it wasn't like he still had living relatives to worry about, did he?—but Danny was willing to take any amount of help that Sidney offered.

Didn't mean he didn't wish that would have constituted more help than just opening a door, though.

Danny moved so that he was sitting with his legs dangling over the side. He just needed to push himself off, fall into the gravel, and try not to break every bone in his body. Easy. "C'mon, you can do this," he said to himself, but it wasn't much of a pep talk. Sidney might be confident the fall wouldn't kill him, but that didn't mean he wouldn't break a leg or something, and—

"This would be so much easier if I could fly."

Except he couldn't, because his only superpower was apparently coughing up vaguely helpful, completely random, or straight up evil ghosts.

Danny hesitated for longer than he should have, biting his lip and trying to will himself to just push off and fall. His heart thundered in his chest, terror of being discovered battling with terror of the drop and what escaping now would mean for his family and friends. He wasn't even sure how to save himself. How did he expect to save them? If he stayed, they'd be safe enough for now, but later—

They wouldn't be safe later.

No one would be safe later.

He had to try.

"I'm going to regret this," Danny muttered, and he meant to lean forward. To fall. To escape. But a split second of teetering forward had him throwing his weight backward, trying to save himself. He couldn't _make_ himself drop that far on purpose. He just…. He was scared.

He was trying to escape from what was very probably a homicidal ghost, and he was scared of falling.

Why couldn't Sidney come back? It would've been so much easier if he'd just flown Danny down to the ground. Or flown him _anywhere_. Really, Danny wasn't about to be picky. He'd even be willing to be flown into a _different_ shipping container, as long as it wasn't this one, where the shifter ghost had left him.

Danny rolled over onto his stomach. "I'm going to regret this," he mumbled again, wiggling closer to the edge. First it was just his feet hanging over the edge, then his knees, and then…. "I'm going to regret this, I'm going to regret this, I'm going to—"

He couldn't help but scream when he lost the battle with gravity.

Scream, and wish _fervently_ that he could fly, or at least that he would _stop falling_.

He shut his eyes, hoping he didn't break too many bones when he landed—or, if he did, that it wouldn't hurt as much as he was imagining. Maybe adrenaline would keep the pain away for a while. That would be nice. That would…not explain why he hadn't hit the ground yet.

Had Sidney caught him? Or, far worse, had the shapeshifter ghost come back? Except he couldn't feel anyone's arms….

Danny opened his eyes and closed his mouth, not fully aware when realization had startled him into silence. He was…floating. That was the only way to explain it. He'd just stopped, mid-fall. More easily than he'd anticipated, Danny twisted so his feet were pointed toward the ground. That meant he was only a few inches above the gravel, and—

Gravity reasserted itself, and he fell back to the earth. He wasn't ready for it and still ended up on his knees, but the suddenness was more jarring than the impact with the ground. He…. How had that—?

 _You're powerful_ , the shifter had said, and Sidney had said much the same, hadn't he? _I don't know what powers you control._

Powers.

Did he really have—?

The door above him creaked on its hinges, reminding Danny that he needed to move, and he pushed himself to his feet and stumbled into a run without looking back. His sneakers scraped against the dirt and occasionally skidded on loose gravel, but he managed to keep his footing. His panting was easily loud enough to give himself away if anyone was around, but….

But the shifter hadn't caught up to him yet, and he had to keep going so that they didn't. The lack of obvious tracks would work in his favour, and he'd have to keep out of sight once he made it out of the docks. The industrial end of town would be all but abandoned at night. There were no crowds to blend into. That kinda worked in his favour, though. He couldn't look great right now, and the cuffs would draw attention if his injuries didn't.

And the shapeshifter could become anyone.

Danny kept running, concentrating more on moving than where he was going, and tried to keep all other thoughts out of his mind.

He'd…he'd have to figure out what had happened, but he didn't have time to do that now.

He needed to get somewhere safe first.

And to do that, he just needed to run.


End file.
